Professor Everett's Christmas Carol
by Helena Mira
Summary: What begins as a Christmas date with a new girlfriend turns into an adventure of extraordinary proportions as th Figallily family comes out in force to help Professor Everett get his life and that of his children back on track.


_These are not my characters and I make no profit from borrowing them. My apologies to Charles Dickens, but since his work is in the public domain, I can do with it as I please and he can't complain._

**Professor Everett's Christmas Carol**

**Prologue**

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,

Was a hustle and bustle that no Scrooge could douse.

There were stockings and candy and stuff everywhere,

But a small tinge of sadness 'cause Dad was not there.

The three Everett children were all happy because it was their first Christmas since Nanny had come to live with them. Prudence and Butch could not remember, but Hal could, the earlier holidays when their mother was alive and everything smelled of freshly baked goodies and evergreens. However since her passing, the celebration had been half-hearted. The professor had lacked her talent for creating a magical season and the various housekeepers had been indifferent. After all, why would anyone want to do anything special for such a rowdy trio. It would probably make them only more obstreperous anyway. And who needed THAT on top of the extra work?

But Nanny, like their mother, took their excitement in stride and enjoyed the chaos that she deftly generated and then controlled, allowing the children to have their fun while somehow managing to keep the house running smoothly. It was not the first time that Hal, the eldest, noticed her similarity to his beloved mother. His Christmas joy was rather quiet and reflective. But Butch and Prudence, who only remembered the perfunctory observances of the last couple of years, were enthralled. They had only heard stories of such things from their friends. But this year it was their turn to join in the happy chatter and create envy among their classmates. Nanny's well-organized mayhem was a delight that they would not soon forget.

The Professor had been rather surprised when Hal had embraced the enchantment of Father Christmas as well. He had even gone so far as to help Butch and Prudence create lists to Santa that he then addressed and mailed for them. Afterwards he held a confidential meeting with Nanny and the Professor in which he outlined some of the most desired gifts. After the grumbling about greed and children's unrealistic expectations, the Professor had finally consented to a small budget for Christmas gifts.

Nanny, the soul of thrift, had managed to accumulate an impressive pile of gifts for each child. Meeting Prudence's outrageous request for a pony she found a beautiful stuffed pony that was large enough for her dolls to ride. Butch would also have his first "real" adult-sized baseball glove that she claimed to have gotten "on sale." More likely she had supplemented his rather stingy budget from her own resources. After all, she never seemed to spend a cent on herself. Thus Christmas wishes would be met and the fantasy of Christmas would remain intact for another year, at least for Butch and Prudence.

But tonight was a frenzy of preparation for the main event. The four were running here, there and everywhere preparing for Santa's visit. Before he left for his party, the Professor had offered to further embellish the atmosphere with a fire in the fireplace. Prudence, only five years old, burst into tears.

"Do you want to burn up Santa Claus, Daddy?" she wailed.

With a grimace the Professor recalled that Nanny's latest flight into fantasy had included tales of Father Christmas coming down the chimney to deliver all sorts of wonderful presents for the seemingly bottomless pit of Figalilly relations. Hal had surprisingly not chosen to try to debunk this myth, as he had only a few weeks ago with the tooth elves who brought quarters to children who left teeth under their pillows. Instead he told Butch and Prudence, tales of the days of his "childhood" when Santa had come to visit them all. With his confirmation, the younger two were nothing less than true believers.

"We'll make a fire tomorrow then," he quickly amended.

"Oh that would be lovely," interjected Nanny. "It will make things very cosy for you all as you open up the wonderful treasures that Father Christmas brings you tonight."

"Dad," said Butch. "Do you have to go out tonight? Don't you want to stay home with us?"

Three pairs of expectant eyes looked up at him, as Nanny lowered hers. This time he was determined not to give in. And if the phone rang with Suzette cancelling their date at the last minute, he was going to hit the ceiling. These coincidental cancellations were becoming too frequent, and even irritating. In fact if he didn't know better . . . After a moment of silence, when the phone didn't ring he replied, "No, I promised Miss Langdon that I would go to her friends' party. And after all the university parties that I have dragged her off to, it is the least I can do to attend one with her friends."

Prudence wrinkled her nose, but the Professor ignored her. He had begun dating Suzette a couple of months ago. It was rather surprising to him that the relationship had lasted as long as it had and that it was even deepening. She wasn't really his type. She worked at the university as an administrative assistant in the dean's office. He had first seen her while waiting for an appointment with the dean who had gotten tied upon the phone. Bored, he had allowed himself to be drawn into conversation with her.

At that time, he discovered that she was light-hearted and surprisingly, although clearly not an intellectual, intelligent. She was also a real knock out, again not his type at all. Her long dark hair and large brown eyes were alluring. When she finally stood up to knock on the dean's door to remind him that he was waiting he noticed her long slim legs and the easy sway of her hips. On the way out he had asked her for a date.

One date turned into more, every weekend in fact, and soon the Professor found himself escorting her to all the various holiday functions. He had even invited her home to dinner a couple of times when Nanny with that irksome habit of knowing such things without asking always prepared a favorite meal of hers. Nanny was always charming and polite, but after the first dinner, the children were not so much. In fact after the second dinner, they all left the table immediately after dessert claiming homework. He had been rather suspicious of this excuse, especially since it was a Friday night, but Suzette was unbothered. In fact she seemed glad of the chance to spend more time with him alone.

And so the relationship had continued, her assiduous attention made him feel special. He thought of the lovely pair of earrings in his pocket that he planned to give her after the party. She had promised that they would not stay too late so that they would have some time to go back to her place where they could have some privacy before the next day when there would be no opportunity. Suzette was coming over tomorrow to spend the holiday with the family. The children had been less than enthused, but Nanny as always had smoothed things over by saying that she was sure that it would be a splendid day. After all, she had never known a Christmas that had been anything less than marvelous. As always, Nanny could bring them around, but Prudence was now indicating that she was still not convinced.

Grabbing his dinner jacket and kissing each of his children good night he set off for his own "marvelous and splendid" date with destiny. As soon as he closed the door the children turned to Nanny and Butch said, "Does she have to come tomorrow?"

Carefully considering her answer, Nanny said, "Now you know that Miss Langdon makes your father happy and don't you want your father to be happy?"

As usual, the question was able to push the right buttons and looking at each other they all replied reluctantly, "Yes."

"But couldn't he be happy with someone else?" asked Hal, thinking of Dr. Miller who had been a rather jovial companion. Despite her insistence that the "Wiblet" was real and that he had visited her in her childhood as the "Dinklebilly," her sense of humor had been endearing. And then there was Dr. Carlisle whom Hal had liked better because she appreciated his scientific mind. Butch and Prudence, who had gone to one of her children's workshops to have their over-active imaginations "deprogrammed" were less impressed.

But like all the Professor's other lady friends, Drs. Alice Miller and Lynn Carlisle had not lasted long and now his Dad seemed stuck on this "Miss Langdon creature," as he thought of her. He knew it was an unflattering description and therefore did not dare to mention it, but now Nanny was looking curiously at him.

"We cannot dictate to someone whom they like and do not like, true enough? She inquired.

"True enough," he answered reluctantly, thinking of the unwanted appreciation and fawning of Francine Fowler. Boy did he wish that she would find someone else to bestow her considerable attentions on.

Changing the subject as always, Nanny said, "Why don't we get the milk and cookies ready for Father Christmas?"

So they all trooped off to the kitchen to prepare the traditional plate of cookies and glass of milk for the jolly old elf. As he poured the milk into the glass held by the eagerly waiting Prudence, he noticed Nanny smiling at him in approval. After all, he was probably the most unlikely Santa's elf even she had ever met.

**A Visit From a Future Friend (of sorts)**

It was around two in the morning when Professor Everett stumbled up the front porch stairs. The house was silent, but someone had left the porch light on for him. After a couple of tries he managed to get his key in door and himself into the living room where he found everything ready for the morning. Presents were under and around the tree and a half-eaten plate of cookies was set beside an empty glass beside the hearth. True to form Santa Figalilly had created the perfect scene for Christmas morning.

"Well at least something is perfect," he thought.

The evening had been great, but not fabulous experience he had imagined. Perhaps he had built his own expectations too high. Suzette's crowd, like herself was a rather "unintellectual" bunch with whom he had little in common. He tried to feign interest in movies he hadn't seen and people he didn't know, but he just wasn't up on all the latest pop culture. However, Suzette had clung to him all night, clearly demonstrating to all that she regarded him as "hers." That did give him a warm feeling inside. When she realized that he wasn't having the great time that she wanted him to have she kept pressing drinks into his hand, which he gratefully accepted.

Unfortunately, he was not used to such heavy drinking and soon found himself leaning on her for more than social support. Nonetheless, the alcohol had had its desired effect and he loosened up and worried less about content of the conversation and more on the beautiful woman beside him. Sensing his undivided attention and amorous intent, Suzette continued to draw closer and lead him along.

However she had miscalculated the effects of so much drink on a lightweight and found herself driving them over to her place. A bit annoyed by his inebriation and not wanting to be responsible for him, especially since the "nightcap" she had planned looked highly improbable, she set him behind the steering wheel and sent him on his way. Fortunately the Professor had retained enough self-control to actually arrive home without getting into an accident.

Slumping into a chair, Professor Everett fell sound asleep with thoughts of the two women, one blonde, one brunette, who had turned his world upside down and inside out in very different ways. He didn't know how long he had been passed out when he awoke with a start. Leaning on the mantle of the fireplace, reading the names on the stockings was a dark-haired young man with a mischievous smile. The Professor noticed that he was fondly tracing the letters on the one labelled "Nanny" with what one could only call a "cheeky grin" on his face.

"Who are you and . ." began the Professor.

" . . . what am I doing in your house at this ungodly hour?" finished the stranger.

"The former is not really that important," he continued quixotically, "but the latter is of most concern."

The professor felt a spark of annoyance. The man spoke with a British accent, very similar to Nanny's. His attention to her stocking gave him the distinct impression that whatever he was doing here, it had something to do with her. Oh great, probably some long-lost Figalilly relation.

"Not yet, old boy," he replied, "Although I had hoped to be soon. Nanny and I are very old friends."

"So then what is . . ."

" . . . my name? As I said, it's not important although it could be, I suppose." The man paused for a minute and pondered. "I certainly hope not."

"Will you stop . . ."

" . . . speaking in riddles and get on with it?" he once again finished, evidently enjoying the Professor's discomfort. "I am here to let you know that you will have three visitors tonight, or maybe four, I can't remember. Each of them will have an important message for you. Now I can't tell you what because that would spoil the surprise, but I will give you a hint.

"You are rapidly approaching a fork in the path of your destiny. The choice that you make will greatly impact not just your life, but those of all your loved ones."

"But who . . ."

" . . . sent me and why?" the messenger finished with a wink of his left eye. "Well you'll have to figure out that one on your own old chap. Ta . . ."

With that the stranger quickly stood up straight and walk towards the door. Briefly pausing to glance back and give a cheery salute, in an instant he had vanished into the night. Grumbling to himself because he must have left the door unlocked when he came in, he was about to get up and lock it when a great lassitude came over him again and he closed his eyes.

**The Spirit of Christmas Past**

When he opened them, a fire was blazing in the hearth and standing before him, in a worn suit with bowler in hand was a shortish man. Bowing before him, he cheerily said, "Happy Christmas Professor Everett!"

The Professor rubbed his eyes in disbelief. What the heck was going on? First the mysterious gentleman and now this fellow with his broad cockney accent had somehow walked straight into his house. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Why, I'm Uncle Alfred, a' course" he replied with a flourish.

"And whose Uncle Alfred would that be?" asked the Professor, immediately thinking of Nanny and the never ending parade of aunts, uncles, cousins and who knew who else, who inhabited her pithy words of wisdom and colorful stories.

"Why I'm everyone's Uncle Alfred!" he replied happily. "Now Professor, you and me is going to take a little trip, so to speak into a bit a' your past."

"Going to take a trip into a bit of my WHAT?

"Why your past, 'a course. For tonight and tonight only, I am the Spirit of Christmas Past who is here to take you on a fantastical voyage into one of the many past Christmases of your life," he answered with all the aplomb of a carnival barker.

The Professor rolled his eyes. Leave it to him to have a Dickensian nightmare complete with what looked like a Dickensian character.

"Now, now," replied the little man, "It's not a nightmare ('Not yet anyway,' he mumbled under his breath). Now grab me coattail and . . ."

WHOOSH . . . the Professor found himself sitting with Uncle Alfred in loft of a wood cabin, both their legs dangling over the edge.

"Why this is the cabin in Tahoe that Helen and I rented for Christmas a few years ago. Things were not going so well with her treatment and she wanted a white Christmas, so I splurged and brought the whole family up to the mountains."

"Yep," affirmed Uncle Alfred. "It was one of those times that you didn't even think twice about breaking open the old piggy bank , I'll wager."

"It was her last Christmas," answered the Professor softly. "But how did you know and how did we get here?"

"Well Prof, this is one of those times when you are going to have to suspend your belief in the probable and just accept that anything is possible. That's what my dear Phoebe girl would say."

"So then Nanny did send you," stated the Professor.

"Now I didn't say that, did I?" he denied, "But pipe down so we can 'ear what they are saying down there."

Leaning forward both looked and listened.

A frail looking woman was sitting up on the couch, wrapped in a quilt before a roaring fire. Despite the heat in the room she still looked cold. Near her, a little blonde toddler was playing with a doll. She was looking at the little girl with tears in her eyes.

"Oh Hal," she said wistfully. "I can't believe that I will never see Prudence grow up."

The Professor started when he heard his own voice from the opposite side of the room reply, "Try not to think about it Helen. We are all here together right now and that's what matters. Who knows? Maybe some treatment will come up that they haven't thought of."

But the woman shook her head sadly, "No Hal, we have to face reality. There isn't much time left. But you are right, we are all together right now and we need to enjoy every second of it."

A cold breeze blew into the room as two young boys ran in. Five year old Butch and nine year old Hal were fairly bursting with energy. Their rosy glow and bright blue eyes indicated the fun that they were having. As they pulled off their snow things, not for the first time, Professor Everett marveled at how all three children had inherited their mother's fair looks. Once divested of their dripping clothes, they both walked over and kissed their mother.

"We had a ball, Mom," cried Hal. "There is the coolest hill outside for sledding. I'm sure glad that Dad was able to find some for us."

Helen softly smiled. As he watched from his perch, the Professor remembered that he had gone out especially to purchase them. They would have no use for them at home, but it had been another one of his splurges. Presently they were still up in the attic at home buried under who knew what.

"Hot chocolate in the kitchen boys," called the Professor from the distance.

From the loft, the Professor watched his younger self return to his wife. He picked up Prudence from the floor to bring her closer. Helen was looking at him intently.

"Hal, I want you to promise me something," she said.

"Anything my love," he replied.

"When I am gone (the past and present Professors both winced) you must be sure to take the best care of the children. I know that you are too young to stay unmarried for a long time and eventually the children will need a stepmother to help raise them. Please, make sure that she loves them enough to ensure that they grow up into healthy and happy adults."

"That may be the easiest promise that you have ever had me make," as the past Professor spoke, the present also quietly spoke the words under his breath.

Uncle Alfred heard and with a wink and a nod, they were back in the Everett living room. The Professor was once again startled by the rapidly changed shift in time and space.

"Couldn't we have stayed a little longer?" he asked yearningly.

"'Fraid not. My time with you is up. All's you have to do is wait a bit and the next lot 'll be here."

In an instant Uncle Alfred had vanished and the Professor was left alone. Feeling more clarity in his mind than at any time in the past few hours, he sat down to wait. However, the previous lassitude that had overtaken him before Uncle Alfred had popped in overtook him and once again he fell asleep.

**The Spirits of Christmas Present**

A sweet old woman's voice was saying, "Why Justine that was quite a perfect landing!"

"Yes, Agatha," replied a stronger voice, "It was a perfect landing indeed."

"Landing?" Professor Everett opened one eye and saw two rather odd-looking women standing before him, "Where did you land? Under the tree?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Professor," replied the taller, more authoritative one. "We landed in the backyard, of course."

"The backyard?"

"Oh yes," replied the other, "The living room would have been much to small."

"For what?" The Professor was puzzled.

"You wouldn't believe us if we told," she replied.

The Professor took a second to look at the unlikely pair. Their dress was certainly not of present day, although he couldn't exactly place the time period. The taller woman was dressed in a wool suit with a beret and scarf, while her companion wore a dress, coat and hat with a rather jaunty flower. Their British accents betrayed them and he could only imagine what their connection was to Nanny.

"Well we won't keep you in suspense," stated the beret. "I am Phoebe's Aunt Justine and this is my sister Aunt Agatha."

"Are you just Nanny's aunts or are you everyone's aunts?" asked the Professor wryly, thinking of Uncle Alfred.

"Oh no," replied Aunt Agatha. "Our Phoebe is quite definitely our very own niece. Normally we wouldn't have made such an early visit, but a situation arose and we just had to address it."

"Yes we did Professor," added Aunt Justine. "This is a most vital situation."

"That's something like what Uncle Alfred said," answered the Professor.

"Yes, dear Alfred, for once he didn't bungle . . . I mean, for once he managed to complete a task without . . . issue," said Aunt Agatha.

"Now, Agatha, you know that we can always count on Alfred in a pinch," stated Aunt Justine.

"What about the time when . . ." began Aunt Agatha.

"Never mind" interrupted Aunt Justine. "We have our own task to complete. We don't have time to go on about Alfred Wiggins."

"Yes, of course, Justine," answered Aunt Agatha and turning back to the Professor sweetly said, "Well Professor, we had heard that you were good looking, but no one told us that you were so tall, dark and handsome. Why if I were younger . . ."

Aunt Justine rolled her eyes. "Oh Agatha, I better tell this. Professor we are here to take you on the second leg of your journey. You might call us the Spirits of Christmas Present."

"Ah," replied the Professor, "More friends of Mr. Dickens, I gather."

"I wouldn't exactly say that," said Aunt Agatha. "You know he was never really a very pleasant man, especially to his poor daughters . . ."

"THAT will be enough Agatha," thundered Aunt Justine, before she could continue. The Professor was befuddled by the woman's implication and a bit sorry her sister had stopped her. He was sure that whatever Aunt Agatha might have divulged, it would have been quite illuminating about them and all the Figalillys, not to mention Nanny herself.

"We are going to stay where we are, but no one will be able to see or hear us, even though we will only be going several hours ahead," explained Aunt Justine.

And without the same triumphant WHOOSH of Uncle Alfred's transit, ('Alfred always was a show off,' muttered Aunt Justine, obviously reading the Professor's mind) the three were standing in a corner of the living room.

The three children were sitting in a circle with Waldo, the family's large sheep dog, and happily recalling the events of the morning. Suzette was seated in a chair looking bored. The Professor could see the door to his den was closed and could faintly hear his own voice, although not distinctly enough to make out words, talking on the phone. Despite her ennui Suzette was looking rather pleased with herself, her new earrings dangling from her ears. She finally addressed the children.

"So children," she stated, "I am sure that you must be very pleased with your haul for the day."

"Nanny says that Christmas isn't about presents, it's about family. The only reason that we give presents is to show our family how much we love them. And Santa Claus brings extra toys for the children if they've been really good during the year," saids Prudence.

"Well then," replied Suzette following the little girl's logic. "You all must have been VERY good this year."

"Well not really," said Hal uncomfortably, "After all, we did chase off five housekeepers, before Nanny came that is."

"And why didn't you chase her off?" asked Suzette curiously. Since she had never had much interest in the Everett children, she had no idea of the problems that the Professor had in keeping a housekeeper before Nanny's timely arrival. The Professor now recalled that she barely acknowledged Nanny's presence when she had previously visited, other than as a servant.

"Because she wasn't YICKY looking like the other ones, and she really liked us," answered Prudence.

"Yeah," said Butch. "She was too smart for me. She knew that I dropped Myrtle, I mean Mike, into her bag before she even got to the stairs."

Hal nodded, "Yeah, I guess we couldn't have chased her off if we tried. That's kind of how it always is with Nanny, you can't fool her about anything."

"Well she definitely is NOT 'yicky' looking and she does seem quite smart," Suzette mused more to herself than to the children.

She looked thoughtful. The Professor was watching her with interest. Although he had begun to think of her as a potential part in his future, the thought of her relationship with the children and even Nanny had not yet crossed his mind. The three children looked at her waiting for her to finish.

"Well, I don't expect that Nanny will stay with you forever," she finally said. "You know things could change around here so that you wouldn't need her any more."

"No," said Prudence emphatically. "I will always need Nanny!"

So intent was he on the scene that the Professor was startled to hear Aunt Agatha say, "Why what a sweet little girl. How could anyone not need our Phoebe?"

Then turning back he was even more amazed by Suzette's response.

"Well, she is after all just a housekeeper. It wouldn't be hard to replace her. I can also see that she is spoiling you kids to the point where you don't think of anyone's feelings but your own. It might be good for you all to get a strong dose of reality."

The children were silent but Hal finally spoke up. Trying to be diplomatic he said, "I don't think that Nanny spoils us so much. She does a lot of stuff for us, but we can't really get away with anything."

Suzette clearly viewed this show of loyalty to the other woman as some sort of reflection her. The Professor wondered if she wasn't jealous of Nanny's place in the children's affections. On the other hand, SHE didn't seem to be doing much to win them over. Since the children looked away and the conversation was obviously over, Suzette heaved a great sigh as she stood up and went towards the kitchen. The children ignored her but the Professor and the aunts followed.

The smell in the kitchen was delightful. Neatly dressed as always in a skirt, blouse and apron Nanny moved gracefully between the pots on the stove and the oven. The table was decorated festively for dinner. Suzette stood at the door looking intently at the petite woman. Suddenly Nanny turned and smiled.

"Oh Miss Langdon, is there anything that I can do for you?" she asked pleasantly.

Ignoring the question with a toss of the head, Suzette began in a chilly tone, "So Nanny, it seems that you have everything under control."

"Yes thank you," replied Nanny, failing to acknowledge the tone. "I don't need any help. Why don't you go back to the living room and become better acquainted with the children. Unless of course I can get you something?"

"Actually it's you I want to know better," answered Suzette with a glint in her eye that the Professor had never seen before. He didn't exactly like it.

"Me?" responded Nanny innocently. "Whatever for? I am just the children's nanny."

Typically Nanny would go to great lengths to avoid confrontation, quite the opposite of Suzette. Evasive language was an art form to her as the Professor had discovered early on in their relationship. ("Quite right too," murmured Aunt Agatha, "confrontations never solve anything.")

Not to be put off so easily, Suzette probed, "JUST the children's nanny. I suppose that housekeeping and babysitting are the only services that you provide this household?"

Ignoring the unpleasant inference, Nanny smoothly answered, "I try to provide a warm and loving home for the family."

"The WHOLE family?"

"Well of course," Nanny answered logically. "You can't provide a warm and loving home for only part of a family. Now if you don't want anything, I still have many preparations still to make."

For any normal person, this would have been enough to send them away. But the Professor, seeing an unknown side of Suzette for the first time, realized that she was not finished. From somewhere deep inside himself, he wanted to reach out protectively to Nanny. Sensing his concern, Aunt Justine held him back, "I understand how you feel Professor, but remember that there is nothing that you can do. We can't be seen or heard."

He just wanted to get away. He could imagine what was coming next and he didn't want to see or hear it. If the purpose of these visits was to open his eyes, they could consider them opened. He had had enough. But Aunt Agatha added with sympathy, "Professor, I am afraid that we haven't done with you. There is still more."

"YOU have clearly been making a warm and loving place here for yourself with Hal. If I hadn't had time today to spend with the children, and you, I might not have known until it was too late. I suspect that you would not want the children to know the full truth of your job here," Suzette said snidely.

Nanny's face went from red to white.

"You wouldn't. You know it's a lie."

"Is it, MISS Figalilly?" asked Suzette. "I believe that if properly presented to them the facts would speak for themselves. And I do know that you tell them so many fantastic tales that they could be made to believe that this is another one of your fairytales come to life. "The Prince and the Beggar Maid" would no doubt fit the bill, what do you think?

"Or perhaps we can spare the children their illusions and you your reputation. If you chose to leave voluntarily then they would accept it. I am sure that you would be capable of coming up with some story."

The Professor was sick at the sight of Nanny's face. All the bravado was gone, all the joy in life, there was even a hint of . . . guilt . . . in her expression. By the look on her face of pain and resignation he knew that Suzette had won and he had failed to do a single thing. He could not do a single thing. In fact if this scene were to play out in the near future he would never even know that the exchange took place.

"He's seen enough Justine," said Aunt Agatha kindly.

"Yes Agatha her certainly has."

In scarcely a second, the Professor was back in the living, alone. The fire that was still burning brightly on the hearth indicated the Mr. Dickens or whoever was pulling the strings in this dreadful tale was not finished packages were unopened under the tree and it was still dark out. Sitting down heavily he put his hands in his head. It was banging again as his brain absorbed what he had just witnessed.

**The Spirit of Christmas Future**

"Young man!" An imperious British voice, a bit high-pitched aroused him from his stupor. Once again an oddly dressed figure stood before him. This time it was an imposing figure, clad is loosely fitting clothing and scarves. She looked like something out of a circus. If he had not been so familiar with Dickens' original story, the woman in this iteration would have been highly amusing. However farcical it all might seem, there was a darkness visible in her aura.

"So you are Aunt . . ." he waited for her to fill in the blank.

"Henrietta. Well, you're more perceptive than you look. Tonight I am the Spirit of Christmas Future and I have the most unpleasant task of bringing before you Christmas ten years hence."

Without another word, the Professor found himself in a dark apartment that he had never seen before. Everything was shabby. The furniture looked familiar but old. It appeared to be empty, but he heard a knock on the door and saw a young man walk over to open it.

A policeman stood there looking serious.

"Are you Butch Everett's brother?"

"Yes," replied the young man who the Professor now realized was Hal. He was taller and thinner and looked very unhappy. What in the world had happened to his cheerful, self-confident eldest son?

"Well, I am sorry to have to bring you such news on Christmas of all days."

Hal sighed. "What has he done now?"

The police officer looked at the young with sympathy. "There is no easy way to say this. Your brother took his own life last night, he was found this morning by a friend. You will need to come to the morgue to identify the body."

Hal visibly sagged and looked even more defeated. Taking in the emotions of the young man, the officer added, "But you don't have to do it today. In fact you don't even have to have the details today, if you don't want."

"Thanks," said Hal, clearly relieved. "It really doesn't matter right now I guess. I'm going to have to tell my sister."

The Professor choked back a sob and reached out for his eldest son. Aunt Henrietta sternly pulled him back. He tried to turn away, but she faced him back to the scene.

"I've seen enough."

"No you haven't," she answered almost cruelly. "The fates have decreed that you must see it all in order to understand the gravity of the choices you make today for your family tomorrow."

He forced himself to continue to look and saw a teenage Prudence enter. Like her brother, the physical resemblance to the young child Prudence was evident but her joyful spirit was not. She was also wearing clothes that he would have sworn that she would have only worn over his dead body.

"Hmm" commented Aunt Henrietta cryptically under her breath. "Definitely more perceptive than I had thought."

Hal moved forward to her and said, "Prudence, we have to talk."

"Not now, I've got a date."

"On Christmas?"

"So what? Since when has Christmas ever meant anything to us?" she tossed back.

"Well, what I have to tell you has nothing to do with Christmas. It's about Butch," answered Hal.

"What did he do now?" asked Prudence, bored.

"He killed himself," replied Hal bluntly and devoid of feeling. The Professor could not believe the lack of emotion with which he spoke those words.

But he was even more shocked by Prudence's response, "Oh well, I guess it was just a matter of time. His life sucked, if you can it a life. He's probably better off. Us too. Now you won't have to keep bailing him out of jail."

"I know," said Hal. "But I still feel bad. I always feel like I could have done more to help him."

"Yeah, what could YOU have done?" challenged Prudence. "The real question is what could Dad have done, or not done?"

"We've gone over this a million times. Dad what did he wanted to do. And at the time, I think that's what he thought was the right thing to do. It's not like it worked out so great for him either you know," answered her brother.

"Well yeah, it sure didn't take long for him to buy it after he married that witch."

The Professor turned to Aunt Henrietta and mouth the words, "I'm dead."

But she just roughly turned him back to the scene. Despite not wanting to hear or see another thing, he was transfixed. This was the future? His children's future and his? Where was Suzette? Where was Nanny? Surely she would not have abandoned the children if he had passed.

Prudence though only 15, looked hard and bitter. For the first time the Professor noticed that her eyes didn't sparkle the way they had when she was a little girl, they glittered.

As if to further torment Hal, she heartlessly recited the story of the past ten years.

"So Dad brings home that chick Suzette. All right, she was drop dead gorgeous, but it didn't take her long to get rid of Nanny and set herself up in the house. Yeah, I know, Nanny said that it was time for her time move on, that she was no longer needed but I never believed her. I think that Suzette figured out a way to convince her to leave.

"Pretty smart move, huh? Dad is desperate to figure out what to do and she keeps after him all sweet and nice. All of the sudden she's making up to us and ragging on Nanny for abandoning us. I know that WE never believed it, but Butch sure did. That's why he probably turned out all screwed up. After Dad dropped dead there was nothing to stop him. Using and selling, kicked out of school because he was caught by the narcs.

"Yeah, Dad came up with a great solution didn't he? Finds himself a little cutie, then tries to keep up with her, and then the heart attack. Who would have thought that with all that golf he could have just kicked the bucket like that.

"And then Step-Mommy dearest couldn't wait to get her hands on her share of the money. She even sold the house so that she could get THAT money. So here we are in this dump and she's already found herself another Sugar Daddy. So you, genius boy, can't go to college, Butch can't finish high school, and me, well, let's not get into that again."

Hal looked defeated. The Professor knew that Prudence wasn't exaggerating. Hal's face told the story all by itself. And he had brought this calamity on his family all by himself. Without Nanny the children were lost. With the force of a lightening bolt it struck him that Nanny was always right. No wonder she was able to get under his skin. Nobody likes someone else who is always right. But was that a good reason to . . .

Suddenly the Professor felt like he was caught in a wind tunnel, being dragged along and dropped. He found himself crying out, "No! No! NO!" as he was shaken by an unknown force.

**Return to Reality (of sorts)**

"Professor! Professor! Wake up! You are having a nightmare!" Nanny was shaking him as she anxiously cried out. The Professor looked up at her leaning over him in her nightgown and robe, long blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. Her face was a picture of concern; in fact he had never seen her look so worried. He looked at her in a state of complete bewilderment. She knelt beside him and tenderly took him in her arms. He was still breathing heavily and shaking. He let himself rest in her warm comforting embrace. She gently patted his back and whispered, "There, there," over and over.

As his breathing slowed down to normal and he gradually settled down, she let go and looked at him searchingly. He knew that he could never explain where he had been and what he had seen. Now he wasn't even sure that he had been anywhere at all. The fireplace was cold and everything in the room still and dark. It looked nothing like it had when the visitors had . . .

"There now," said Nanny soothingly, "It was just a bad dream. Not surprising considering how much you've imbibed. You smell like old Uncle Bleary O'Leary's pub on a Saturday night."

"Well, maybe I did drink a little more than I am used to," he said sheepishly.

"Was it worth it?" asked Nanny lightly. "I mean, did you have a good time?"

"I guess so," said the Professor sighing.

"Well, I think it's best if we get you up to bed. Normally I would recommend a nice mug of hot milk but I don't think that it would mix too well with the other liquids in your stomach."

She was trying to casually get him to move. It wouldn't do for the children to find him passed out in the living room in the morning. The Professor sensed that under her sympathetic gesture was a hint of amusement. Although he had never come home drunk before, she did not appear shocked. Perhaps it was because she was English and had spent enough time around her Uncle Bleary O'Leary, unless of course he was everyone's uncle too. He wasn't sure that he liked the fact that she was laughing at him.

Following her out, he noticed that he was passing under the mistletoe hanging in the entrance to the living room. Thinking that he could create a little amusement of his own he reached out and grabbed her left wrist and jerked her into his arms under it. She gave a little cry of pain, but he didn't notice. He was too busy noticing her deep blue eyes and silky blonde hair. She was tense in his arms. Now that he had her there, he knew what he wanted to do, just to tease her a bit. His intention was to give her a little peck on the cheek and let her go, but he found that he couldn't stop looking into her eyes.

Realization flooded his mind. He knew what he HAD to do. He might even be able to do it if he caught her off guard. The events of the evening had brought forth in him those desires that he had so carefully denied since he had first seen her. Yet he would not allow his physical passion to overwhelm him or her.

Suddenly the roles were reversed. He waited for her heavy breathing to lessen and her body to relax. He knew that if he did, then the moment might right. He knew that if her eyes continued to look at him fearfully that he would not let her go. Drunk as he was, he was possessed of enough of own wits not to force her to do anything that she didn't want. While not unaware of her beauty and grace, he had neatly compartmentalized his feelings for her into a box labeled: "do not open". As if she somehow knew his intentions were not forceful, she relaxed and with a deep sign of obvious relief rested her head on his chest.

His grip slackened and he softly stroked her hair. As his grip on her loosened, he felt her arms encircle him and hold him. Carefully choosing his moment he reached down and tipped her chin up. Trembling, she closed her eyes and willingly accepted his lips as they met hers.

Their first kiss was sweet. Something stirred inside him that he had not felt for a very long time. How many women had he kissed since Helen died? None like this one. Sliding his hand from her chin, he supported her neck as he sought more and deeper kisses. What he demanded she freely gave. As her body melted into his he realized that she would give him whatever he asked for. It was a tantalizing prospect. It was a place that he had never imagined himself going.

He suddenly realized that he had reached the fork in the path of his destiny. All that he had seen and heard that night came flooding back to him. He knew that he had a choice to make. He also knew that this incredible woman in his arms was freely making that choice apparent to him. He didn't know her well, but he sensed that she had never been this close to any man. He knew that she was completely surrendering to him in a gesture of completely unselfish love. Beyond this, he recognized that element of unconditional love that he had only experienced once before in his life, with Helen.

Overwhelmed by the knowledge that he could so easily have settled for less, his desire increased. Just as the Dickensian paradigm, this story would last beyond Christmas. Like old Scrooge, he found that he was once again "alive," awake to the joy, beauty, and yes even he love that he had lost in his life. He could literally feel it in his arms. He wanted to protect it, to protect her.

With his lips never leaving hers he lifted her up and gently carried her up the stairs. He cradled her close, fearful that he might drop her, but she was so light in his arms that he didn't even stumble. The door to his room was open and the bed turned back. He laid her on the bed and then went back to close and lock the door, so there could be no intruders. It was dark in the room now but he reached her purely by sense of touch and felt her arms welcome him as he lay beside her.

Inside he felt a hesitancy, suppose he hurt her? But she had no reluctance. While he knew that this was all new for her, he sensed no fear or shyness. She returned his kisses and caresses measure for measure like a beautiful song they were composing together. So lost was he in her that he could no longer tell where he ended and she began. It didn't matter. They would soon be one. In the dark, he couldn't see much, but the glow of her eyes reflecting the moonlight coming in the window assured him that she was ready. As his passion exploded within him, he heard a pounding at the door.

Shaking himself awake, he realized that he was alone in bed. His head was splitting with an enormous headache that was only exacerbated by the insistent thumping.

"Dad! Dad! Nanny says that we can't go down and open the presents without you!" hollered Butch.

NANNY said, he thought. He looked around confused. There was no trace of her and the door was firmly shut. In fact still dressed from the night before, he was lying on a completely made up bed., although completely rumpled by what must have been a very restless night.

"Why don't you just come in?" he growled, noting that a closed door had never stopped them from barging in before. Cranky from his crashing headache and the interruption of his dream just when it was reaching its climax, he decided to stay in bed as long as he could.

"It's locked, Dad," answered Hal. "You have to open it from the inside."

Open it from the in . . . That was impossible! A couple of years ago Hal's first successful attempt at home improvement had been to tinker with all the door locks so that they could only be locked from the inside, not out. If anyone had left the room she could not have possibly left the door locked behind her. Butch had decided that it would be fun to lock the housekeepers out of various rooms in the house as they tried to work as a prank. He could be effectively stopped but little Prudence thought that it was a great game and they were unable to explain to her that it was a more an annoyance than a game. Utterly bewildered the Professor dragged himself out of bed and unlocked the door. "Well I'll be."

He looked out at his three children, still in their bedclothes while Nanny stood behind them, neatly dressed and perfectly groomed as ever. Smiling she brightly said, "Happy Christmas, Professor!"

"Merry Christmas, Dad!" chorused the children and Prudence jumped into his arms, kissed him and said, "Merry Christmas, Daddy!"

They were all so excited that not even Hal noticed that he was still dressed in his evening clothes.

"Can we go down now?" asked Butch.

"If your father's ready," replied Nanny. Giving him a quick once over she said, "I've brewed a pot of coffee."

Without meeting her eye, the Professor replied, "Well that's all I need. Come on kids, let's go see what Santa brought!"

As the Everetts trooped down the stairs behind Nanny, the Professor thought to himself, "What the hell happened to me last night? That's the last time I drink that much!"

**Epilogue**

Things had finally quieted down for the night. Prudence had fallen asleep clutching her new pony. Butch's baseball glove was under his mattress with a ball bound inside to break it in. Even Hal was sound asleep. Out of habit, the Professor was seated in his den reading a book without much attention. Now that things had quieted down, he couldn't help but turn his mind back to the disturbing dreams of the night before. After all, they HAD to have been dreams.

There must be a rational explanation for everything that he had imagined. Remembering what little he knew about dream analysis he began to carefully reconstruct the facts. Nanny had been reading Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" to the children for the past month in nightly installments, as she explained that it had originally been published serially in the newspaper.

The aptness of the tale had not escaped him as he furtively listened each night. He knew that after Dickens had published it (as a novel, not in a serial he noted with the satisfaction of his superior knowledge to hers) the joyful traditions of Christmas were revived in both England and America. He had had the feeling that a subtle parallel was being drawn with the present situation for him. This was a tidbit of literary history that the children, not even Hal, could possibly have known. And Nanny had chosen not to share it with them.

Thoughts of Helen always returned to him at the holidays. This particular spin was probably prompted by his growing relationship with Suzette. And perhaps his take on the present Christmas was due to the children's reluctance to accept her and their latent fear they all had that some day Nanny would vanish from their lives as suddenly as she had entered them. And the future? Well perhaps those were his own deepest, darkest fears of what could happen to them if something should happen to him. It was only natural that he would lay all responsibility for their hardship on himself.

Even the assorted friends and relatives of Nanny could be explained. After all, whenever she wanted to teach the children a life lesson she could always conjure up an anecdote about or words of wisdom attributed to an endless supply of family members. He was still not able to fully reconcile himself to the nameless young man with the annoying habit of finishing his questions. Nanny's relatives were never nameless and this one seemed to have a very different relationship with her. Jung could probably have figured it out, but at the moment he couldn't.

Most disturbing of all was his final dream. If his subconscious was expressing the true feelings that his conscious mind refused to admit, then he had better reprogram his subconscious, and FAST. Of course he had always known how beautiful Nanny was, only made more so by her caring nature and winning ways. As a father, he could not help but be happy with the loving care she lavished on his children, filling an empty hole within his family that he now fully realized could not.

While last night she had certainly felt real enough in his arms, it occurred to him that it had been a very long time since he had been with any woman that way. After his plans with Suzette had been thwarted by his own drinking perhaps this had been an outlet for his frustration. However to be perfectly honest, he was now very glad that things had not gone that far, with either woman.

He would definitely have to be careful around Nanny. The last thing that he wanted was to frighten her away. As her employer he knew that he should not exploit the imbalance in their relationship. Not that he really feared that she could be coerced into anything that she didn't want to do. If ever there was a woman who could take care of herself . . .

His reverie was broken when Nanny came in with his evening coffee, signaling that things were back to normal after the Christmas madness. He looked up as she set down the tray and noticed an angry bruise on her left wrist. Seeing him looking at it, she self-consciously pulled her sleeve down.

"It's nothing, just a little mishap," she had read his thoughts.

She turned to leave, but he stopped her. Gesturing, he insisted that she show him her wrist. He could see that it was a vivid purple, but there was no indication of what had caused the injury. He gently touched it but she quickly withdrew her hand.

"Wait," he said softly. "Are you sure that it will be alright?"

For a long moment they looked into each other's eyes. The Professor felt that it was a gaze that they had shared before, but a plausible explanation would never be found for how she could have . . .

"Oh yes, Professor," she replied with a small smile. "Everything is going to be fine."

She paused and then, as was her custom, changed the subject and asked curiously, "Why was it that you asked Miss Langdon not to join us for Christmas?"

"Well," he said honestly, "I thought that we had been seeing a little too much of each other. You know, building up too many expectations. I thought it would be a good idea to cool it for a while."

"Oh, then it's too bad about the lovely earrings," she said innocently.

"Oh yeah, well . . . Wait a minute, I don't remember telling anyone about those earrings," he replied. How many times had they had THIS conversation before?

"Oh, but you must have? How else could I have known?" she responded, widening her eyes farther. He could never quite tell why she so frequently pushed his buttons this way. But then, her gentle teasing WAS a part of their relationship, whatever that was.

Intent on a little mischief making of his own, he quipped, "Know anyone else who might want them?"

Turning quickly on her heel so that he couldn't see her face, she made a hasty retreat. The Professor chuckled to himself. Butch wasn't the only one who could throw a good curve ball every once in a while. If he might not be able to explain everything about her to his complete satisfaction, at least he could try to throw her a little zinger every once in while just to throw her off balance. Hmm . . . Throw her off balance often enough and perhaps one day he would have to catch her. Now THAT could have some interesting possibilities . . .

**The End**

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